Chaos Quota
by melkyre
Summary: Five times Roy needed Kaldur, and one time Kaldur needed Roy. Slight Aqualad/Red Arrow.
1. one

Five Times Roy Needed Kaldur

...and one time Kaldur needed Roy.

AN- contains slight adult themes, language, and minor slash. Not a lemon.

[]

The first time was classic.

Roy raced around the corner, panting and wincing to himself. His fingers were clamped around his hand, squeezing so tight the muscles shook. He could hear the thugs laughing, their shadows peeling against the wall in front of him. They were close. His heavy breath could not be stalled, and the sweat trickling down his face made him want to wipe it away. He was so sure that if he moved, a cry would escape him.

The archer swallowed to himself, breath shivering along with him. Finally, as if giving in, Roy reached up and pressed his earpiece.

His voice came so perfectly calm through the communication, he almost laughed in relief. "Aqualad."

"I need a hand." Roy said as quietly as he could, glancing at his hand with a smirk at the slight pun.

"On my way."

Blood dripped on the floor, and Roy knew he luck was out. The knife had sliced right across his palm, and it was deep. He was nearly worthless with his bow, only for hitting people in the face with it. The thugs creeping around the corner weren't his normal junkies, instead hopped up on some kind of crazy steroid. And they knew exactly where to strike in order to render him helpless.

With the bare moments he had left, he unfurled his fingers and stared almost uncomprehendingly at the mess of his palm.

A loud bang wrenched him from his stupor, and the thugs had found him. Roy swept up to his feet, hand closing and ringing with loud pain, but he just tucked it behind his back so the thugs wouldn't prey on his weakness. He was already at a high disadvantage.

"Miss me already?" Roy snarled at them, having lost whatever kindness he held before.

The thugs were wordless, as they had been the entire encounter. A brief morbidity made Roy's eyes flashed the knife still sleek with his own blood, trapped in the hands of a particularly rabid thug.

Two of the opponents moved at once, one sweeping down and the other striking upwards. It took more brain power than it should have for Roy to leap over the leg and catch the upper-cut with his good hand, flipping the top enemy into his partner who was swinging out of the lower strike.

The third took advantage of his delay in next move, shoving him up into the wall, knife slashing up. Trapped against the brick, all Roy could do was send a free elbow at the man's jaw, which left him open for a punch in the face.

Whiteness burnt in his vision, and he slouched for just a moment. There were too many thoughts for the moment to be dealt with properly, and he really just wanted to lie down...

The thug was violently ripped from him, and Roy slid numbly down the wall. Kaldur made very quick work of the thugs, and his normally calm face was impassive and dangerous. The men were secured with water bindings, not that they were getting up anytime soon.

Roy was busy trying to think coherent thoughts. He was slouched against the wall - in a manly manner, of course - fist closed and free hand cradling his mouth where he'd been punched.

"Where's my bow?" Roy said out loud, just as Kaldur was about to approach him. His friend wordlessly turned to search the dim alley, and Roy attempted to collect himself enough to present to Kaldur. He didn't simply get taken down by thugs in an alley; he was an independent superhero, working on his own. He didn't need help.

"Here you go, my friend."

Roy blinked at the bow once, realizing he'd run out of time to collect himself and Kaldur had already returned. His good hand stretched out, closed around the handle of the expensive weapon, and drew it in. Kaldur crouched down to his friend's level. "Are you alright?"

"Fantastic." he replied, proud that he did not sound pained. "Thanks."

"Do you mind informing me what happened?" Kaldur asked, ever polite even when Roy woke him up at four in the morning. Which it was now.

Figuring it wouldn't take long for him to figure it out; Roy held out his fist and uncurled the fingers, despising the tremble in his hand. The entire inside of his palm was coated in slick blood, leaking down his wrist.

"I see what you meant." Kaldur simply said, taking his hand and trying to get a better look at the cut. It was worthless to attempt to see within the thick coats of blood. "We should visit a hospital."

"No." Roy spoke finally, withdrawing his hand from Kaldur. It was just a stupid cut, and if Kaldur had gotten the same cut, he wouldn't be immobilized. Pride held him. "I've got stuff at my place. Thanks for taking care of those guys; I've got it from here."

"That is too bad." Kaldur mirrored his movements when Roy stood up. "Because I am coming anyway."

Roy looked ready to fight him, swaying the tiniest bit, and stalked off - not waiting for Kaldur to follow but knowing he was.

Somewhere between the alley and his place, Roy was going slowly enough for Kaldur to catch up, and then his friend kept pace with him. The archer kept a firm silence, slipping into his apartment and having Kaldur shut the door behind them.

His place was an absolute mess, and he knew it. He didn't have time for such things like cleaning. Kaldur did not comment, simply stepping over any mess and following Roy into his room.

He ignored the Atlantean, digging under his bed and throwing his aid kit onto his bed, the supplies spilling and mingling with the blankets. Roy roughly found his needle and medical thread, the cleaning solution and bandages. He didn't want to force his legs to walk into the kitchen again, so he sat cross legged on the floor and threaded the needle, washing the wound with the solution and letting the liquid and blood soak up the towel he placed beneath it. Blood was pooling again before he could even finish, and he felt the numbing his specially created solution provided.

He only managed two stitches before the shaking in his fingers impeded him. He didn't look up, knowing Kaldur was watching and Roy was refusing to acknowledge the tremble.

Kaldur moved, sitting on his dirty carpet with him, gently taking the needle and beginning the stitches himself. Roy let him, eyes not looking up from the mangled hand, refusing to meet his friend's eyes.

Somewhere in the middle, Roy breathed thickly through his nose. "You don't have to do this."

"Do what, help you? I am your friend, Roy." Kaldur replied in the same placid manner as always.

"God dammit, why are you always so fucking calm!" Roy snapped. "Why don't you rant about how much of an idiot I am, or what I did wrong?"

Kaldur didn't even pause his weaves. "Because then I would be just like the person you hate, Green Arrow."

A cold wall of shock hit Roy, and he had no response.

Kaldur finished, wrapping a tight bandage around it so Roy wouldn't pull the stitches out. He stood up, disappearing out of Roy's bedroom. For a horrible moment, the archer thought he had left, but then he heard a faint clinking in the kitchen, and the Atlantean returned with a glass of water.

Roy accepted it, making a cheers gesture to Kaldur and downing the entire glass. His worthless hand was slouched in his lap, and he leaned against his bed.

"Sorry." Roy said.

"You have nothing to apologize for." was Kaldur's immediate reply.

"I-"

"Everything is fine, friend. Get some rest."

Roy lolled his head, the suffocating sheets of exhaustion weighing against him. He spat a bit of coppery blood into his ruined towel, and wiped his mouth. He reached behind him to feel his way on his bed, finding the bottle of pills and popping two out. Healing accelerants, and a mild pain reliever. He took them deftly, and heaved himself into bed. Kaldur picked up his discarded bow, mounting it in its place on the wall. Then he lingered slightly.

"Go back to bed, Kaldur." Roy said, muffled by his pillow. "I'm not dying."

Roy could almost feel Kaldur's pensive expression, and then the following nod. "I am a phone call away, my friend."

"Thanks. Now go away before I demonstrate my notorious snoring."

"Not to worry, Robin provided me with the video clip." without looking, Roy knew Kaldur was bearing his amused smile.

"Of course he did." Roy groaned, then made a 'shoo' gesture with the good hand, rolling on his side and snuggling close to his warm covers. He didn't hear Kaldur leave, but the resounding silence that followed told him that he was gone.


	2. two

The second time it was kind of an accident, he didn't really ask for help.

It started with Roy going to help Kaldur, actually. The team had a jailbreak in Happy Harbour, and Roy caught word of it in the comm. stream. It was easy enough to appear in the midst of battle, helping the kids along in their fights with strategically placed arrows.

The cut from a couple weeks before was a mere thick scar on his palm now, and it didn't bother him in the least. He liked to pretend that night never happened, but the deep scar tissue did not allow as such. No, what was the problem now was the fact that he was sick.

Red Arrow doesn't get sick. He doesn't. Even Roy Harper doesn't get sick; it's just not in his nature. But the high fever and verge of nausea was trying to prove otherwise.

He buried it, and deftly helped the team wrap it up, wrangling inmates into cells and only managing to get one elbow to the nose. The knock-out gas Robin sent off was a big help, although Roy himself nearly walked into the cloud - an amateur mistake he surely wouldn't have made if he wasn't sick.

Each of them thanked him, climbing onto their strange organic ship. Kaldur paused, and for a moment Roy wondered if he could tell. Maybe it was the slight sheen of sweat on his neck, or the tiny flush of fever on cheeks.

"You're always welcome to accompany us back to the Cave, you know." Kaldur said, crossing his arms. Roy smothered the slight smugness that Kaldur couldn't notice his illness.

"I'm good." Roy waved him off, turning to go.

"If you wish." Kaldur nodded, and then added casually. "I hear chicken soup is good for the flu, my friend."

The archer almost stumbled in surprise, but he was much more composed than that. But he did brighten a little redder, not replying and continuing to leave. Kaldur chuckled, boarding his ship.

The redness did not subside until he reached the zeta beam, quickly porting back to Star City.

"Damn Kaldur." Roy swore under his breath, wiping his forehead and deciding that maybe it was time to head home - pointedly ignoring the fact that it was only nine at night.

Roy fell onto his couch, childish desires of cartoons and blankets crossing his mind before he could halt them. Almost grudgingly, he slumped to his room, dragged his large comforter into the living room. It took a couple moments to find the kids channel, and Roy was cuddled into his large swallow of blankets.

He should've been expecting the knock on the door. "Come in." he said, just loud enough to be heard. It could've been only three people, and he wasn't moving for any of them.

Instead of Ollie or Dinah, it was the third option. Kaldur, with a styrofoam take-out bowl covered in plastic.

"I hate you." Roy greeted, sending a sleepy glare at his friend.

"Good evening to you as well." Kaldur swept in, gently clicking the door shut behind him.

"That'd better be chicken soup." Roy pulled a big bunch of covers out of the way so Kaldur could sit on the couch.

"It is." the Atlantean handed over the container, along with a plastic spoon. Roy popped off the lid and a billow of warm steam rose into the dark apartment air. With a delicacy he generally did not possess, he blew across the top.

"You're watching Scooby Doo?" Kaldur asked, not in the sense that he knew what the show was and was questioning his sanity, but as such that he did not understand the name and/or the premise of the show.

"Yeah." Roy gruffly spooned soup into his mouth, the warm sensation welcome in his stuffy body. "Now you are too."

Kaldur kicked his bare feet up on Roy's coffee table, showing a rare peek of casual customs deep in his formal exterior.

The two watched in near silence, Roy snuffling quietly and sipping the hot soup.

"Did it occur to you that you should have taken the day off?" Kaldur inquired with an even voice at the commercial break.

"No." Roy sulked.

"You may have worsened your illness."

"Shut up. Your sense is hurting my brain." The archer pulled the covers over his head.

"You have to look out for yourself, my friend." Kaldur did not even seem to notice or care about his childish pouting.

Roy leaned against Kaldur, purposefully smothering him in the excess of blankets. "Stop it. I'm finnee."

"Hmm." the Atlantean replied, and peeled back a layer of blankets, finding Roy's face. His feverish eyes squinted, and Kaldur felt his forehead. His hand was extremely cool, and Roy moaned - half out of relief and half out of self-pity.

"You're quite hot." Kaldur said, trying to withdraw his hand and finding it taken by Roy, who was using it as a pillow for his burning cheek.

"Thanks." Roy joked, enjoying the cool Atlantean skin.

"Have you taken any fever-reducers?" Kaldur resigned himself to being an ice pack, leaning back and trying to be comfortable with his hand captive.

"Do blankets count?"

"No. Most would actually consider that counter-productive." Kaldur felt his hand be switched to the other burning side of his friend's face.

"Nm." Roy said.

The soup was gone, and Roy opened his covers, taking Kaldur into the warmth. In some fever-induced mind set, this seemed like a good and totally-not-creepy idea, curling around Kaldur's cold body and using him as a human ice cube. For Kaldur's part, he merely laid an arm around the fevered archer and remained still.

Roy fell asleep, snoring. He only managed two hours of sleep before that lingering nausea kicked itself to the front of the line, shoving its ugly face in Roy's throat. Nearly his entire body curled around Kaldur like a desperate child, the blankets encasing them both in the sickly heat that Roy radiated. He blinked open, the light of the TV harsh and flashing, with Kaldur half-awake.

"Oh fuck."

Kaldur was not given time to contemplate the statement, because Roy flung off the covers and threw himself into the bathroom. After that, it was glaringly obvious what he had meant. The Atlantean shook off the chill that came from lack of an archer's heat, slipping into the bathroom and rubbing Roy's back while he threw up.

Roy groaned, forcing himself to his feet and finding some Advil. Then some mouthwash.

He was shivering now, eyes burning with sickness and tongue fuzzy. "I don't get sick." he groaned to Kaldur.

"I beg to differ."

"I don't. I haven't before, at least." Roy graciously ignored Kaldur's help and slouched onto the couch, clinging the blankets close.

Kaldur crossed from the bathroom, returning to his spot. Roy appeared to have more brain power because he didn't turn and take Kaldur hostage again. "It sucks."

"Do you need anything?" Kaldur asked with his voice low and soft. Roy couldn't tell if the amount of care Kaldur displayed was regular, or new to this situation.

"Nm." Roy said again. Now he was really hot, and really tired. But still shivering. He wanted to watch TV but his vision was blurry. "Kal..."

"Yes?"

"Ka-aaal." Roy murmured, yawning widely and reaching for his friend's hands.

Kaldur allowed Roy to use his hands as cooling items again. "You should rest, my friend."

Roy giggled slightly, or maybe it was little hysterical hiccups. "I hate being sick..." he mumbled, sighing.

"You will get better soon, do not worry." Kaldur gave his friend a tired smile.

"I hate being human." Roy curled his fingers around Kaldur's cold hands, and then withdrew his right hand, spreading the palm out in front of the two of them. The thick scar lit up white at the stretch. "I hate... I hate being completely struck down by a simple knife."

Before Kaldur could answer, Roy pulled the covers over his head and groaned.

"I hate needles and I hate everything like that and..." Kaldur could just barely make out these words, and a cold ball of worry formed in his stomach.

Roy - in his cave of blankets - faced away from Kaldur and fell asleep again.

Next time Roy raced to the bathroom, Kaldur had managed to sleep for over an hour, startled awake by wrenching sick sounds. He slid off the couch, finding Roy with his forehead against the bathtub and bright red.

Kaldur provided him with water, which he drank, then threw up nearly thirty seconds later.

"Are you alright?" Kaldur kneeled next to him, smoothing back his hair. The tall young adult lay on his bathroom floor, shuddering and delirious.

Roy mumbled nonsense a bit, and then caught Kaldur's hand. "Kal... go away now. Go to sleep... sleep."

"Why would I go away, my friend?" the Atlantean continued to push back the sweaty hair.

"Everyone goes away, Kally... they always do, and they say they don't, but they do. I'm not good, I'm no good." Roy said, voice going strange at the end.

"That isn't true." Kaldur said with his voice light as one usually is when arguing with a deliriously sick person.

Roy coughed, then wrenched himself up and threw up again, the coughs harsh and brutal.

"No, no... go back home, go home now. I don't want to... I don't want to be a burden, please..." Roy murmured repetitively. "I don't like me like this, I don't want you to see me like this."

"If you can't love someone at their worst, you don't deserve them at their best." Kaldur said, not fazed.

"You don't deserve me anytime, Kal... please, can you go, I don't..." Roy avoided using Kaldur's hand and instead cooled his face on the porcelain of the tub.

"I am not going anywhere."

There was a lot more murmuring, and Roy's fever broke around five in the morning.

At ten, Roy blinked vague blue eyes at the sunlit interior of his apartment. From his living room, not his bedroom...

The cocoon of blankets encasing him, a square of sunlight on the outside of the covers from his window. The after-aches of fever, and the dry mouth. Then there's Kaldur, trapped beneath him. The Atlantean still managed perfect composure, only curled slightly to the left so Roy could lie completely over him.

Roy slowly released the pleasant meld they had, realizing he had Kaldur's hand cradled in both his hands. He remembered why - it was so hot, and Kaldur was so cold...

Oh god he felt awful. And not even just physically. Kaldur had better things to do last night than listen to his constant strange murmuring, and be molested because he's got naturally cold skin.

Kaldur's comm. - discarded on the coffee table - emitted a shrill ring. The Atlantean blinked awake gracefully, swooping to pick it up and answer it. Roy - in a state of various disarray and still slightly tangled with Kaldur - nearly had a panic attack.

"Aqualad." his friend answered calmly, listened and checked the clock. "Yes, I can be there in fifteen minutes. Alright."

He clicked the side, and adjusted it properly in his ear. Roy wanted to scramble to his feet and hid in the shower until Kaldur left, but he wasn't about to run away from a problem. Not how he operates.

"Are you feeling alright?" Kaldur shrugged on his sweater, zipping it up high and hiding his gills.

"Better." Roy answered, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know if I should thank you, or apologize."

"Neither, my friend." Kaldur gave his smooth smile. "I don't know if you can recall, but I came here of my own free will."

"I still used your hands as ice packs." Roy said, trying hard not to turn red at admitting his own actions.

"At least I am good for something, my friend." Kaldur brought him a glass of water, and Roy almost seemed surprised at the gesture. "I have to go, but I'm just a phone call away. Drink lots of water, alright?"

"Alright."


	3. three

The third time... well, the third time Kaldur didn't really know that Roy needed him, but he did.

After he cut his hand, and then came down with the flu, Roy jumped back into the crime fighting world with a renewed vigour, as if trying to prove himself beyond his own boundaries. This resulted in a couple more scrapes and bruises than he would care to admit, and he refused to call Aqualad. He had been vulnerable and bare in front of him, and most would find this a bonding experience... but it scared Roy. He was always certain, always concrete in his place within people. He was serious, and unflappable. He was skilled and capable... not pathetic and cumbersome. It wasn't him... yet, it was, because it was a part of him. A part he usually could drown, and replace with anger and stubbornness.

Not lying on a bathroom floor, stealing their hands because they're cold. Or having to be saved because some thugs sliced up his palm.

Kaldur was so... perfect. Calm, ready and prepared. Not messed up, dragging people down and drowning them with him.

There was a downfall to his resolve... he grew lonely, and he never realized how little he saw of other people until the only person he spent time with was busy. He didn't blame Kaldur, not even the tiniest bit. Dinah always checked up on him, but it was beginning to feel obligatory. Ollie tried to call, to help him out on patrols... but it wasn't the same, and he generally ditched/avoided his former mentor. Kaldur had been busy, and Roy didn't blame him. Not even a little.

... but that didn't explain the suddenly loud loneliness that rang so tightly in his brain, smothering everything else. He craved, _craved_ some sort of relationship, just for five minutes. Almost to assure him that he was alive, because the stars never shone bright enough to reassure him, and the jumps were never high enough to scare him anymore... he wanted to know if there was still people out there, thinking of him. Just a little.

He really, really shouldn't have felt so incredibly relieved when someone came to the door. It was only Dinah, but Dinah was someone, who thought that he might need a happy face to see. Even though every other time he wanted her to leave him alone, but instead today he wanted something akin to ... attention.

"Hello Roy." Dinah seemed distracted, and Roy's strange hopes plummeted. "You're alright, then?"

He didn't want to answer, because suddenly hot and fiery white rage overwhelmed him. It was only beginning to feel obligatory... it WAS obligatory.

"Yes." Roy snapped, turning his back on her, fingers quivering so he gripped the table. "Sorry for forcing you to check up on me."

He could feel her frowning, and he stormed into his kitchen crashing about to put away his clean pots and pans. She leaned in the archway, arms crossed and frown present. "Something **is** wrong, then."

"No. Leave me alone, okay? I don't need you checking up on me." Roy shoved a pot in a cupboard, and knocked a glass off the counter. It shattered on his ground, and he swore as the glass cut his foot. "Fuck!"

Dinah moved to help him, and he snapped at her again, blue eyes blazing. "I don't need your help! Fuck off."

He ran a quick hand through his red hair, exhaled shakily and simply left the shards of glass on the linoleum and disappeared into his living room.

"Roy..." Dinah approached him, touching his arm gently, a subtle turn so she could see the smooth skin. Roy couldn't believe it.

"I don't..." he violently wrenched his arm away, feeling crushing waves of hurt slosh over him."I'm not fucking using again. I can't even BELIEVE-"

"Roy." instead of pained, Dinah was stern. "Can you just-"

"No. No, okay? Just leave me alone." Roy glared daggers at her, a giant pressure of anger crushing him into a quivering mess. "Leave me alone."

As he angrily snatched up his jacket, and left his own apartment, he wondered how he had gone from wanting company; to rejecting the bare scraps he was given.

It was freezing outside, Roy finding himself in his thin jacket, sneakers and no hat. He knew Dinah would easily catch up to him, so he disappeared down an alley allowed himself to get a little lost. Only then did he emerge, huffing from the cold, wandering aimlessly and watching for a flash of blonde.

He was so hurt, and angry, it was swallowing him in a circle of pain. He flipped up his thin hood to hide his red hair and slouched his hands in his pockets. The cold bit at him like mad dogs and he tried hard to ignore it, but it just added to the frustration and pain.

He couldn't believe Dinah. She had been there, the only one who was understanding and **there** when he was going through withdrawal. And she thinks he'd fuck himself over again like that? Just throw it all away, like everything he'd ever done was worthless? That he couldn't handle himself, here in the big bad real world? He was sick, so fucking sick and tired of each crushing thought adding on and on and onto each other like a building mountain that's going to topple no matter what he does. What happens when it falls?

He just wanted someone to be there, to think of him. To understand. It felt like too much to ask, like he was too much of a horrible person to even request such a simple pleasure. He'd always felt like Dinah was there, was listening... for God's sake, she spent half her time with the team, dealing with them... she'd moved on, and Roy was still trailing somewhere behind, looking for a solvent to something that couldn't be fixed.

Roy rubbed his face, because it was red and numb from the harsh cold. Somewhere, in the pit of his stomach, he wanted Dinah to find him and apologize repeatedly. And say she believed in him, that he could do this.

Too much to ask...

It was late, but not late enough for Starbucks to be closed. It took him an extra couple moments to notice it was a 24 hour store. That made him wonder what time it actually was. He forgot to check when he got home from patrol. He quickly cleared the room of every blonde, including male blondes. He figured if Ollie saw him now... well, he was avoiding thinking about it.

Roy flicked up down his hood, sniffing at the warmth and searching his pockets for change. He managed enough for something hot, and ordered, getting his pick of tables. A couple was in the corner, giggling over pastries, but other than that it was still and silent.

Taking the corner booth, away from the windows and facing the door so he could see, he sipped the drink and felt the anger simmer, simmer and melt. He allowed time to pass for a long time, sitting within smells and near silence and the warm atmosphere... he felt bad. He felt awful. He was just proving himself to be a horrible person more and more every day. Dinah didn't deserve that, and now that he thought about it, she probably had something going on, which was why she was distracted. She didn't need his petty needs for attention to hinder her. He was such a freaking screw up.

Resigned, Roy fished his phone from his pocket; smoothing the screen with his fingers and watching it smear. He should call Dinah. He should apologize.

His phone rang.

It scared him, and the fact that is scared him-made him uneasy. How messed up was he that he was losing his touch?

This was Roy Harper's phone so he answered accordingly. "Harper."

"Hello, my friend."

Roy paused in the anxious leg shaking he was doing, honestly surprised. "Kaldur." Why was he calling? Has Dinah called out the big guns already?

"How are you feeling?"

Ah. It was just Kaldur calling, since they hadn't really talked since he had the flu. No ulterior motives. Just two friends talking.

"I'm... I'm alright. What's with the phone call?" Forever blunt, Ollie used to say.

"I am currently on a stakeout, and figured it was a good as time as any to call. I appear to be short on time, lately." Kaldur had the freaking nerve to sound apologetic.

"Right, right..." Roy took a shot of his coffee, watching a brunette walk inside the Starbucks and go to order. "You don't have to call, you know."

"I wanted to."

Roy wanted to sob in some strange world where he deserved such an amazing person as Kaldur. With amazing timing. "Well... thanks."

"I take it from your quiet demeanour that you have not had the best night?" Kaldur offers.

"A little bit of an understatement." Roy ignores the tremble in his voice, just like he knows Kaldur will.

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

God. He didn't... there was too many emotions, so Roy buried them. "No. Well, yes, but not really. Because I don't even really understand. I think. Nevermind. Let's talk about something completely unrelated, how about?"

"Anything in particular?"

"Uh... what's your favourite movie?"

There was a pause, and Roy heard a little shift. He could also hear a faint wind, as if he could picture standing on a rooftop in the gnawing wind. With a tiny musing smile, Roy figured Kaldur would enjoy the cold, unlike him.

"I have not been given ample time to explore surface cinema, but at this moment I would choose the Harry Potter series."

Roy chuckled quietly. "So you are a Potterhead, but you've never even watched Scooby Doo?"

"From what I gathered, the two are completely unrelated."

"When'd you watch Harry Potter?"

"Wally."

"Gotcha."

Kaldur laughed softly on his end.

Roy sipped his lukewarm drink.

"Oh." Kaldur said, and then added almost hesitantly. "Does Dinah have anything to do with the reason you're upset?"

Roy stilled, willing himself to sound casual. "Oh? Yeah. Why?"

"I just received a text from her, saying if we knew of your whereabouts to let her know."

"Ah."

Kaldur seemed cautious. "Do you want me to tell you where you are?"

"I don't know. Do you even know where I am?"

"That was going to be my next question."

The wind whipped loudly past Kaldur. "Was it your fault, or hers?"

"I don't know." Roy rubbed his face quickly, sighing. "Whatever. Tell her I'm at a Starbucks."

Another pause with a quiet typing, then an almost an amused tone from Kaldur. "You _are_ at a Starbucks, right?"

Roy snorted. "What do you take me for? It's freezing outside."

"Of course." Kaldur said, carrying a smirk in his voice. "Do you want to talk about it now, or are you going to simply punch her when she gets there?"

"Probably no punching." Roy watched the door more vigilantly now, his heartbeat speeding up just an inch. "Just... urgh. I'm tired."

"No punching is a good sign, I believe." Kaldur replied almost musingly. "Any shouting?"

"Usually. But now I'm too sleepy for shouting. Do you think if I let her hug me enough times that I could go to bed faster?"

"It is a distinct possibility. I must admit I do not see Dinah as a big 'hugger'."

"She isn't, usually. It's usually just towards me, but we have swings. Either it's hugs, or a bunch of well-deserved smacks."

"The second, I can easily imagine."

Roy spun his empty paper cup, imagining Dinah coming through the door. Why did she send out a text? "How's the stakeout?"

"It is—ah. I have activity. Good luck, my friend."

"Godspeed." Roy parts, clicking the phone shut, placing it on the table and spinning that too.

He wanted to angst over his emotions a little longer, but a distinct flash of blonde in the corner of his eye not only stopped his thoughts but made his heart skip a beat or two.

It wasn't just Dinah, but Ollie too. He hadn't been face to face with his old mentor in a little while, but the sight of him gave his heart an involuntary squeeze. They glance about the empty Starbucks for him, and he had the childish urge to hide. Instead, he kept his tired blue eyes glued to the table and his spinning phone.

"Roy." Dinah said, and then hugged him so tightly he thought her arms would break. She buried her face in his red hair with a strange sigh. Roy gently hugged back, much like one who was putting up with an overbearing mother. She released, and to Roy's immense surprise, Ollie gave him a very tight hug. The father figure was as gruff and secure as any other time he'd been hugged, but this was the first time since he'd quit.

"Sorry." Ollie said, scratching his blonde head absently and sitting down next to Dinah.

Roy, once the touchy-feely stuff was done, returned to spinning his phone. "Send out the dogs to find me, did you?"

"Roy, I'm so sorry." Dinah closed her hand over his, stalling the phone. He was forced to look up and meet her eyes, catching the regret and flow of emotions in her eyes. "That was incredibly terrible of me. I never doubted you, alright?"

"So the first thought when I stormed out _wasn't_ that I was off to see a dealer?" Roy accused, the hurt surfacing despite himself. He was working hard on focusing on only Dinah because Ollie was a huge different ocean of emotions he didn't want to deal with at the moment.

"_No."_ Dinah replied with confidence. "Not even for a second, Roy. But I did think you might hurt yourself."

Roy had the biting reply on the tip of his tongue, but instead dropped his gaze. Could he really deny, right to her face, that he was thinking safely when he left? It was a lie, and they would both know it.

He continued to not have a reply, and found himself with such a lost of words it left him a little empty with nothing to shield him. A warm, calloused palm encased his and Dinah's.

"We worry—I worry about you, Roy." Ollie said, eyes burning purposefully into Roy's. "We love you, and I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt—it's not that I don't trust you. It's not that, for once. It's that sometimes there are things out of our control, and I've always wanted to protect you from those. But I can't, and it scares me."

Roy breathed heavily through his nose, dropping his gaze again. He was too tired for this. Ollie always was a little bit of a mother hen, but to hear him...

Roy withdrew one hand pushing his hair away from his face tiredly. "I'm okay now, alright? You two need some kids already."

Their grip tightened on his one hand. "We already have kids, silly." Dinah said, a slightly proud expression crossing her face. "What do you think you are to us, our accountant? If you're hanging around and eating Ollie's food or not, you're still one of us."

_One of us._ Like how he changed to Red Arrow to be on par with Ollie, to be an equal. _One of them._

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Dinah." He glanced at Ollie, on the tip of his tongue was '_I'm sorry I stepped on your hat, Ollie'_ but he didn't say that. It wasn't... He wasn't there yet. But he certainly was closer. "You didn't deserve that."

"I probably did. I should've visited more, it's my fault." Dinah admitted, which was a feat. "But next time you do that, I'll break your legs so you can't walk away from me again."

"Point taken. Can I go home now, or did you want to have more 'family time?'"

"You can go, but happened to be patrolling on Tuesday night, you might find some of our usual 'family time'." Ollie offered, and Roy paused in placing his phone in his pocket. He hadn't been on a patrol with Ollie since he quit... within good reason.

"Hm." He replied. Ollie seemed to take the lack of 'no' as a good thing, or at least an improvement.


	4. four

The fourth time... Roy doesn't like to think of the fourth time, thank you very much.

Roy wondered if he was ever moving forward, or if he was just constantly moving backwards.

He thought he'd maybe made progress or something along those lines, talking with Dinah and Ollie... if that was true, why was he out getting smashed?

He didn't go Tuesday. He patrolled, but as far away from their route as he could without leaving the city. Then he _did_ leave the city, patrolling around anywhere that had streetlamps. He found the weekend, his Friday night; his one day off that he gave himself so he didn't end up dead of exhaustion or naked from never doing laundry. Roy washed his clothes, and slept the whole afternoon, then got up and wanted to drink. Because it was something to do, one of those things that remind you that you're still here, you're still just a kid and you're still able to live life. The club was so loud, and the drink coming so fast... he forgot to check over his shoulder for more than half an hour, and didn't even bother wondering if this was a good idea. Because it was fun. It was so loud, so vivid and _real._

And he knows it a great night, because there is this tight tangled knot of kids in the corner, with those plastic baggies, and he knows those white pills would've given him a high close to his usual fix. But since it's a great night, and he knows his own life, he laughs at them, turning away. Not touching that shit. There's just some lines... some lines that remain fat and glow-in-the-dark no matter how drunk you are. Dinah would be proud, if she could get past the blaring amount of _smashed_ he was.

Words and thoughts and sights smear and smear in his brain, and it's pleasant. He feels as if someone could walk up to him with a needle (which is a much higher scale needed for resistance) and Roy would step on it, and break it. Because he is himself, and not that. Not anymore.

He leaves the club, skimming the streets and brushing the building walls as he walked. He wished Kaldur liked to get drunk... did he? Where is Kaldur?

Drunken fingers find his cell phone, and he grins as he types in Kaldur's number.

"Aqualad."

"What kind of drunk are you?"

There is a long pause, and a shuffle. "Good evening to you as well, Roy."

"Uh-huh. What kind of drunk are-eee you?" he stretches out the 'e'.

"My friend Garth tells me I am a responsible drunk. Or, as some of our classmates called it, a 'party-pooper' drunk. I am going to take a wild guess here and presume you are drunk yourself, my friend?"

"Bullseye." Roy said, and then giggled. "I can't imagine you drunk, Kal."

"It was a hard-to-grasp concept myself, but I did live with many other thriving students." Roy hears Kaldur shuffle around. "Do you require a ride somewhere, my friend?"

"You don't have car, Kally." Roy accuses, finding a bench and leaning heavily over on it, slightly cold.

"I suppose that is correct... I could escort you somewhere, if you wish."

"I wish, I wish..." Roy sung, and then switched hands on his phone. "Where do you live, Kal?"

"I have an apartment in Happy Harbour."

"Can I see-eee it?"

"Where are you?"

Roy hiccupped. "Still in Star City... but I think the zeta is near here. I think. Think, think, and think."

Movement on Kaldur's end. "That sounds like a preferable compromise. I would be more comfortable if you were not wandering the streets drunk."

"What, am I gonna get mugged?"

"Exactly. I would pity the muggers."

Roy laughed loudly, and then clapped his hands on his mouth. "When'd you get funny, Kal?"

"When did you resort to drinking yourself silly, my friend?"

"I dunno." Roy kicked at the ground, disliking the question. "Felt like a good idea at the time."

"Does it not feel like a good idea now?"

"I'm dizzy." Roy stood up from his bench, walking around it and enjoying not being able to walk the same circle each time. But then the dizziness wasn't pleasant, but overwhelming. "Where are you?"

"Almost there."

Roy groaned, forehead a little warm and a headache thundering behind his eyes suddenly. "I want your hands, Kal..."

Something akin to amused laughter passed through the line, and then echoed in real life. Kaldur came onto the street, crossing the bench where Roy had laid down.

"Good evening my friend." Kaldur sat on the same bench Roy was lying on, feeling his forehead. Roy giggled, taking the hand and keeping it.

"You're so formal." Roy mused, shivering. "What about contractions? What'd they ever do to you?"

Kaldur seemingly ignored him, helping him to his feet. Kaldur walked and Roy stumbled to the near zeta-beam, and the drunken archer threw up on the other side.

"Ow." He said, and grabbed at Kaldur's shirt. "You have a bed at home, right?"

"Yes, come on now." Kaldur patiently led him to his house, inside his apartment. The low ceilings, wide windows and skylight—it smelt vaguely of the ocean and there was a thin layer of sand almost everywhere in the apartment.

"It's so clean-nnn." Roy mumbled as Kaldur gave him his bed. "I like clean things but I can't do it myself."

"Drink." Kaldur ignored him, getting him to sip a mug of water.

"Nmm." Roy drank a little. "Water's the answer to everything for you, isn't it?"

Kaldur smoothed back his red hair, in a similar manner from before. The drunken archer was on top of his sheets, clothes twisted and blanket kicked back. "Not everything, my friend."

Roy murmured incoherently to himself, and then wrestled out of his shirt and socks, leaving the jeans simply because it was too much effort to remove them. Kaldur seemed to contain an endless boat of patience, still softly smoothing back his red hair.

"Kal..." Roy sung¸ then murmured into the pillow, and took some more water just for something to do. "Kal, lie with me?"

"Roy..." Kaldur replied evenly.

"I'll keep my hands off the merch, it's okay Kal..." Roy reached for him, sluggish and sloppy. "I'm just sleepy and tired. And you're so amazing. I want your hands again. Those don't count as the merch."

Kaldur seemed indecisive, and Roy took his hand, pulling it close and taking Kaldur with it. The Atlantean sighed very gently, shedding the jacket and pulling up the blankets for Roy.

Roy snuggling Kaldur's hand dissolved into his cuddling his arm, and then just lying against his chest and murmuring. Kaldur pulled the blankets closer, and smoothing back the familiar red hair.

"I don't deserve you, Kal... I think too hard and have too many problems and I don't know why you answer the (hic) phone when my ID lights up... we barely just hang out, just be together but instead you spend all your time taking care me... it doesn't get any better than this you know, I don't know what you're waiting for. I don't get any better than this."

"If I can't love someone at their worst you don't deserve them at their best." Kaldur said simply, his eyes shutting in some emotion Roy didn't know.

"I don't have a best, Kal. I don't have a... I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Kal... I don't know why."

"If you stop now, what's the point of everything you did before? Just to let it win in the end?"

Roy had no response, and Kaldur had nothing to add.

Roy was so tall, really. But Kaldur was just as tall, so it wasn't hard to sleep with the leech attached to him. He seemed so untouchable sometimes, Kaldur occasionally had to remind himself he was human... and with more nights like these, it would be painfully obvious how human Roy was.

Roy woke up in the morning with the second biggest headache he'd ever had (don't ask), and a gentle webbed hand smoothing back his red hair. He hated himself instantly—what had happened? But found he was dressed, and Kaldur was even more dressed. But he didn't remember calling Kaldur.

"Fuck..." Roy rolled off Kaldur, trying to ignore the position in the first place. "This really should stop being a recurring thing."

"Good morning to you too." Kaldur replied in that usual manner of his.

"Oh my god when did I call you?" he finds a clock and knows he left the house around midnight, so it must've been pretty late when he had called.

"Late." Kaldur shrugged, throwing his shirt at him. It's stained with something, and Roy groans because it's his favourite shirt and _can you turn off the sun for a couple minutes._ "It was not too awful; you only threw up once, which is an improvement really."

"_Fuck."_ Roy repeated, rubbing his eyes furiously. "I'd apologize but I don't know what I did."

"You were a pretty good drunk, considering the circumstances. Hands above the belt and no secret-child confessions. All in all, mildly successful."

"Tommy is safe another week." Roy said vaguely, finding only one of his socks. "Why are we at your place?"

"Your idea."

"God. Sorry."

"No big deal, my friend. Would you like some breakfast?" Kaldur gave him his sock, which was hiding in the blankets.

"You're so formal. Ever just think about saying 'want food?' and leaving it at that?" Roy wished he had a different shirt.

"I am buying."

"Ooh. Count me in. And coffee. And a new brain."


	5. five

Finally, is the fifth time.

Roy doesn't like to think he's a coward. Because he's not, he really isn't.

This was why he was beating himself up over Kaldur. He'd been in more embarrassing situations with Kaldur than anyone else on the planet, and he was determined to not let that ruin their friendship. Whatever strange friendship they had. He concocted a half-baked plan, slipping into civilian clothing and hopping to the closest zeta beam. Roy was going to visit him, for once, and not the other way around. Plus, he was out of food.

He only remembered where Kaldur lived from the walk home, not the walk **to** there the other night. He ducked his head, letting himself in his friend's apartment and shutting the door behind him. The skylights and wide windows bathed the apartment with warm light, no lamps required. It was impeccably neat; something Roy didn't really have much of a mindset to dwell on last time he was there.

Roy wondered what exactly defined friendship. What made them - two complete opposites - become two people who enjoy spending time together? He searched Kaldur's kitchen after having found the house empty, only finding a box of fruit loops.

He figured it was something close enough to food, pouring in some milk that was dubiously dubbed 'not-expired' and finding a spoon in the sink. Roy had just sat down and was reading the books on his coffee-table - Kaldur apparently didn't have television - spooning fruit loops into his mouth when Kaldur came in.

The Atlantean paused in his own doorway, fingers still hovering on the doorknob. Instead of commenting, he entered without a word and poured himself fruit loops, sitting next to Roy on the couch.

"You don't have very much food." Roy said through a mouthful of cereal.

"I did not realize I was expecting company." Kaldur replied evenly.

"That doesn't stop you from needing food in the meantime."

"I manage."

Roy slurped the fruity milk, and put the empty bowl to the coffee table with a grin. "I wouldn't have pegged you as a 'fruit loops' guy."

"I was lured by the colourful toucan."

Roy barked a laugh, nudging Kaldur's shoulder with his own.

Kaldur finished his, picking up Roy's bowl on the way to the kitchen. He washed them on the spot - unlike Roy who enjoyed watching the pile build.

"Did you come to eat my fruit loops, or did you have another reason?" Kaldur asked, putting away his dishes.

"I'm out of food, but that's beyond the point. I figured we needed to hang out sometime when I'm not sick or drunk off my ass." Roy was reading the ocean magazines that were open on his table.

"Was there anything in particular you wanted to do?" the Atlantean picked up his coat, zipping it up over his uniform.

Roy shrugged. "That would require forethought. Heh." He ran a hand through his red hair, messing it up. "Anywhere good in this town? I haven't really spent much time here."

"I am not sure. We could walk around until we find something, if you'd like."

Just the fact that Kaldur was still willing to spend time with him was more than enough. "Sure."

The streets were cold and hard, and their breath misted before them. Kaldur seemed perfectly at ease, but Roy had his shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in his pockets.

"How are you feeling?" Kaldur asked, hands also in his pockets—but not for the cold, only to avoid showing off his webbed fingers.

"Fine." Roy replied, not elaborating. "How's the junior Justice League?"

"We are surviving." The other young adult looked at the distance, unfocused for a moment. "That is enough, for now."

"You could always join me, you know." Roy said, making the serious offer sound causal. "You don't have to be their leader. I know it makes you really conflicted."

"Conflicted is a minor understatement, my friend." He smoothed his blonde head, hiding his hand quickly again. "I have made my commitments, though, and I will stick to them."

"Your loss." Roy shrugged. "The offer is always open, even for a day if you need to get away."

"Thank you." Kaldur sounded sincere and a strange expression crossed his face, but Roy couldn't decipher it before it disappeared. It bugged him. What was he thinking? "I appreciate your concern, I really do."

"But not enough to actually join me?" Roy joked, bumping his shoulder.

"I could not abandon my team." Kaldur shook his head. "They are young, and they make mistakes. I believe they can learn from them."

Roy didn't know exactly what they were talking about anymore, but he could figure it had to do with the team not really appreciating Kaldur as the leader. Not that the Atlantean would ever outwardly admit as such. Roy couldn't think of a reply before Kaldur changed the topic. "Do you wish to be somewhere inside? It is very cold outside."

"Whatever you want, Kal." Roy wished for his Red Arrow uniform—complete with the top insulation technology.

An odd expression crossed Kaldur's face again, and Roy wanted to reach over and interrogate him. He hated not knowing what people were thinking. Especially Kaldur, he's best friend in the whole world, the only person he trusted and wanted to spend time with, no matter when or what was happening. He never thought he'd have the sense of security and effortlessness that came with Kaldur, and now that is was here, he never wanted to lose his grip. Roy knew he had an... addictive personality, and tended to become dependent on things. As he contemplated the side of Kaldur's face, he silently added _and dependant on people._

He hated the power it gave Kaldur, a power he didn't know he had—let alone use if he did. He was almost at his best friend's mercy simply because he'd become attached to him, and would do anything to stick by him.

It was a miracle Kaldur hadn't run the other way. But Roy knew him, and knew he could never do that. Just like Roy couldn't hurt Kaldur, not on purpose. He couldn't wound the only stable thing around him, without crumbling himself.

Roy was thinking too hard, bringing things in circles that were squares. Kaldur was silently leading him by the arm, as if he instantly had known Roy needed to think. A swell warmed Roy's heart at the fond expression on his friend's face, and he wondered how he ever got so damn lucky.

"Do you want some actual food?" Kaldur asked, of course not mentioning Roy's distraction, because that was how it worked. Silent agreements of unspoken things, all passing between like with such efficiency. They were lingering in a cafe, the heaters running noisily next to them, and the workers shuffling behind the desk, serving the people in line.

"Yeah." Roy softly answered, still half-trapped in the warm thoughts. Kaldur ran his fingers along the shelves of sandwiches, making sure to kept them together and disguise his webs.

Kaldur choose a cheese and lettuce sandwich wrapped in tight saran wrap. Roy wordlessly took it for him, grabbing a random sandwich for himself. He paid, getting a bottle of water for Kaldur and a coffee for himself.

"Thank you." Kaldur sat with him, wrapping it and eating carefully. Roy found he had a roast beef sandwich, and picked at it. He was more interested in the coffee, taking generous sips for the sweet caffeine.

The two of them discussed mindless things, Roy slowly cementing his thoughts from earlier. He needed Kaldur, and he wondered if Kaldur needed him. He needed Kaldur in this moment, simply existing with him. Sure, he may need him when his palm is sliced in half, when he's out of his mind in fever, when he's tearing himself up with anger and when he's lost and drunk... but he wanted and _needed _Kaldur here in this moment with him, being there for each other in the trivial moments as much as the heart wrenching ones.

They finished their food. The two of them ditched being boring civilians and patrolled Star City for a while, working together seamlessly. They watched Harry Potter at three in the morning, and Kaldur fell asleep.

Roy was being used as a pillow, because of some sort of karma from previous nights. Kaldur was curled over him, all postures and formalities lost in sleep. Roy treasured the moment, silently.


	6. plus one

And one time...

Kaldur thought Roy was amazing.

The Atlantean was a well thought out person, and he didn't do things halfway. He questioned his every action, everything he did. He admired Roy - his determination, his dry humour, his stubbornness... Kaldur could only ever speculate why Roy would ever want to hang out with _him_.

It was beginning to get harder and harder to hide how _much_ he admired Roy. He knew that his friend was getting a little suspicious, but he could tell he didn't know what he was getting suspicious _about._

In truth, Kaldur felt much more for Roy than he should, and enjoyed every moment they spent together. He loved that Roy was first to call on him for help, that he was the one he turned to for help.

"On your left."

Kaldur swung around, his water bearers crashing into an opponent on his left. Roy was back-to-back with him, arrows flying from his bow before Kaldur could even register Roy grabbing them. The docks were still, outside of their battle. Water lapped against the platforms, inviting Kaldur to use the liquid—which he did. The enemy was quick and fast, more of these thugs on strange steroids. They were definitely more ruthless, if the tell-tale thick white scar on Roy's palm was to attest to that.

He felt a thug slip past him. "Watch your nine."

Roy punched the thug in the nose, not taking time for tricks or stunts. Kaldur swept some kicks, trying to keep the thugs further away so Roy could fire off more arrows. More opponents emerged from whatever damn woodwork they lurked in, forcing Kaldur to step back a little. All of them had various weapons, and Kaldur barely managed to slice off the barrel of a semi-auto before it screwed them over. Not many of them had guns, but Kaldur was keeping a sharp eye because they appeared to pull every weapon under the sun in their arsenal.

"Duck." Kaldur ducked without question, and the throwing knives whistled harmlessly over them, plunking into the water. The Atlantean felt compelled to shout _'really!', _but instead went plowing forward in the fight.

Kaldur summoned a tide of water, pushing the bunch of thugs back, gaining a little room. Unfortunately, he was left just a little vulnerable from a particularly vicious thug rushing from Roy's side, a bright pocketknife in his hands. Roy knocked him back when he saw the danger of his proximity, but not before the knife slashed across Kaldur's gills.

It was such an incredible shock that his water collapsed in the bearers, and he crumpled. Only thanks to Roy's nimble reflexes did he avoid crashing into the ground, being taken close to Roy and held up. "_Fuck." _Roy swore, back turned to most of the thugs. Kaldur clutched trembling fingers to the wound, fast blood pouring between the webs. The gills were the softest pieces of skin on his body...

Sensing disaster, Roy strung an arrow with one arm and fired, a line streaming between it. He held Kaldur close and swung off the dock—a tactical retreat. Kaldur knew this was bad—they had finally intercepted a shipment of the steroids, and were fighting for control. If they were gone more than five minutes, the steroids would be gone.

"No." Kaldur coughed, while Roy landed nimbly on the rooftop, kneeling and holding Kaldur. "Stop them, let me be."

"Fuck that." Roy's voice was hot and rough. "You're hurt."

"It's—"

"What can I do?" Roy ignored whatever Kaldur was going to say.

Kaldur spat blood on the roof, blinking up at the dark sky. "I am not sure... if I can do anything, at the moment."

"What?" Roy tried to help pin the gills, but there was a river of hot blood.

"You cannot stitch gills. I will just have to wrap them, and endure. They will heal, but there is a chance this side will be... impeded." Kaldur spat more blood on the roof floor. "But I should wrap them quickly."

"Done." Roy picked him up, shooting another arrow and getting away fast. Kaldur felt embarrassed at being carried, but Roy had such a warm body he just wanted to curl up and fall asleep.

"Don't go to sleep, Kal. Tell me know to do this." Roy's voice was quick and business like, and Kaldur realized he was on the floor in Roy's bedroom.

"Clean it." He instructed, forcing himself to sound calm. "Tell me how many gills are cut."

A blissfully cool cloth smoothed over his neck. "Just one, but it's bad."

"Alright." Kaldur found his hands were clinging tightly to Roy's shirt. "Wrap it tightly with something."

He knew it would hurt, but it didn't help him when the bandage was tightened around his neck. A cry escaped, and Roy stopped immediately.

"It is fine." Kaldur panted. Roy seemed uneasy, but finished.

"Sorry." Roy gruffly said.

"Thank you, my friend, but I am the one to apologize—"

"Don't. Even." Roy growled, glaring. "I won't hear it. This isn't your fault. What can I do now?"

"I should be alright." Kaldur turned his neck slightly and winced at the fantastic spasm of pain. Roy disappeared for a moment, and returned with a glass of water. A little musing smile crossed Kaldur's face—_he remembers_—and he accepted it gracefully.

"This is my fault, I should've been watching better." Roy helped Kaldur lie down on his large bed.

"I do not blame you, my friend." Kaldur quietly answered. Roy stared at him, something strange passing between them. Kaldur brushed his arm, taking his hand with a confidence he didn't realize he possessed. The apartment was stagnant and quiet, and Roy was still looking at him very intently. For a brief second, Kaldur noticed that he could simply reach up and kiss him, and it would be that easy. This then surprised him when Roy reached down and kissed him, his kiss sweet and warm.

Roy appeared to sharply realize, and release. "I didn't just do that." He said, blue eyes wide and breath catching. "Fuck."

"Yes, you did." Kaldur replied, calm and frank.

"Fuck, fuck. I am _so_ sorry, Kal." Roy rubbed his face furiously with one hand. "God."

"I do not see a problem." Kaldur smoothed back his red hair, fixing the slight frantic-look that Roy had been adapting. "Unless you see a problem?"

Roy seemed speechless for a couple moments. "Is this some kind of Atlantean way of saying you're okay with this? Because I am really confused right now."

Kaldur chuckled breathily, turning his head in a tired action. "I was not aware you returned my affections. I am yours if you would like, Roy."

An incredulous expression came over the archer's face. "Hell yes."

Kaldur smiled warmly. "Well then." And then he kissed Roy this time, smiling on his lips.

[]

AN – I've been agonizing over the ending. Instead of changing it, I left it as I originally wrote it. Let me know what you think.


End file.
